


I don't need a hero (I need a partner)

by flareonfury



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Siblings, F/M, Felicity & Roy are step-siblings, Felicity grew up in The Glades, Gen, Protective Felicity Smoak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flareonfury/pseuds/flareonfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak has grown up subscribing to the life of hard knocks, but that hasn't kept her down. Sure, she's had to raise her rebellious, mouthy, always a step away from juvie, step-brother since she was just a kid and every chance she's had at having a better life has been shot down, but she's a strong, independent woman who doesn't need no man. Especially a vigilante with a terrible reputation for murdering one-percenters and who just keeps popping up in her life, trying to lend a hand where she says it isn't needed. Then again, maybe help isn't the worst thing, and maybe he isn't either.</p>
<p>Originally written by sarcasticfina (first 3 chapters are hers).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written by sarcasticfina, first published on March 13, 2014. She let me adopt this fic, and I'm so happy! This is one of my favorites, so hopefully once I start writing the next couple new chapters I'll do it justice.

"Where is my brother?" Felicity demanded. "You have no reason to keep him detained like this."

"Ma’am, I’ve already told you… Your brother was arrested for robbery and attempted assault—"

"That’s complete crap! Roy wouldn’t hurt anybody! I’m telling you, he might’ve stolen that purse, emphasis on ‘might’ but he wouldn’t  _hurt_  anybody. I mean, one time he punched Larry Davidson in the nose, but that kid was asking for it. You don’t just walk up to a stranger and plant one on them! You think I wanted my first kiss to be with that creepy little boy? Because I didn’t. And Roy made sure he knew that. I talked to him about it after and he’s never done anything violent since. I’d also like to point out that he was seven at the time, if you’re thinking about charging him with  _that,_ too.”

The front desk worker looked unimpressed, to say the least.

"I’m sorry, did you say Roy Harper was your brother?" a curious voice piped up. 

Felicity whirled around, brow furrowed, and found a petite brunette staring back at her, waves of curly hair falling down her shoulders. And she looked, well, there was no better for it than  _pissed_.

Raising an eyebrow, Felicity lifted her chin defensively and said, “Let me guess, the person he stole a purse from and then  _allegedly_ assaulted?”

Brows furrowed, the girl shook her head. “Wait, he didn’t assault me… I mean, surprised the crap out of me, sure, but he didn’t hurt me.”

"See!" Felicity slapped a hand down on the front desk. "I  _told_ you he wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Her eyes darted around. “Is there anybody around who could take this girl’s statement? I want that on record.”

"Anyway, the reason I came over was because he said he didn’t have any family…" The girl stared at her curiously. "Except for a mom addicted to Vertigo." She crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to look a whole lot pissier. 

Felicity let what she said register and then said, “He doesn’t! When I said sister I meant  _step_ , as in, not related by blood just really, really crappy circumstances… of the Vertigo induced, why me God, variety.”

Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. “Whatever. Look, I dropped the charges against him, so he should be released soon.”

"Oh." Felicity shifted her feet. "Well, thank you, I guess. And… Sorry. About the purse stealing thing." She winced. "I promise it’s not something he does a lot, it’s just… Times are really tough and I’m sure he thought you could afford it.  _Wait_ , that’s not what I meant. Not that rich people should be like, mass robbed or whatever. I mean, there’s currently a modern-day Robin Hood running around kind of doing that, so don’t think I’m endorsing him. I’m just saying, Roy doesn’t steal from everyone, and he won’t be making a habit of it. He just…” She groaned, blowing out a sigh and covering her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just all we have at home right now is string cheese. You know, that really disgusting stuff that comes out of a can and is like, one molecule away from being plastic? My check from work bounced and I’m already behind on paying the rent and trying to afford community college, which, I mean, okay, that is a whole other bag of cats.” 

"Wow, whoa, slow down…" The girl reached for her, a hand tentatively finding Felicity’s elbow. "Listen, whatever’s happening, it’s not my business. I mean, yes, your brother totally jacked my purse, which I’d really like back, actually. But all of this other stuff… I mean, you don’t technically owe me an explanation.  _He_ does. But I guess that whole sob story about his mother was… true?”

Felicity frowned. “Yeah, well, I mean, Vertigo is kind of her latest drug of choice. She’s been on and off a few other things for as long as I can remember… I guess that was partly my dad’s fault. They didn’t meet under the best circumstances and my dad had a way of bringing down everybody with him, so… Probably a good thing he ditched when I was thirteen. Well, timing could’ve been better, it was actually four days before my thirteenth birthday. Hah,  _surprise_ , dad’s gone.” Closing her eyes, she counted back from three. “Sorry, I’m doing it again. You didn’t want the sob story and I just keep rambling on about—”

“ _Thea!_ " a harried voice called. 

Together, the both of them turned as a tall, handsome, incredibly worried, and angry, looking man approached them. “Are you okay? Laurel called, she said you were assaulted.”

Felicity pursed her lips. “Robbed, actually. There was no assault. I really wish somebody would write that down.” 

Thea glanced at her, slightly amused. “Hey, Ollie, yeah, no, no assault. Just had my purse stolen while me and Laurel were in the Glades.”

"What were you even doing out there? Do you know how dangerous it is?" he wondered, frowning down at her. "And what happened? She said something about you dropping the charges?"

"It’s a long story…" Thea rolled her eyes. "Look, I just… I’m tired and this whole thing has been crazy, so, can we go? Please? I think I’ve seen enough of the police for, well, the rest of my life." 

"Not until you explain why the guy who robbed you isn’t being charged," he pushed. "He should be rotting in a jail cell, not walking free."

"I take offense to that," Felicity piped up. 

"Ollie" turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "I’m sorry. Who are you?"

"I’m the alleged assaulter’s sister. His very protective, very concerned older sister who will be dealing with him just as soon as he’s out of custody. I get that you’re worried about your sister, and I completely understand why, but Roy isn’t a bad kid. He’s made some questionable choices, yes — you don’t even want to hear about his younger years, when he’d eat anything that fell on the floor — but he’s still a good person. And I know that he made a really bad decision here and probably scared your sister, but it’s not exactly rainbows and butterflies where we grew up, so excuse me if he hasn’t had the best influences." 

The man glowered down at her, seeming to use his height advantage to loom. “Your brother  _robbed_ someone. That’s not a victimless crime. Maybe we wouldn’t be having this problem if he’d stolen food to feed his starving family, but chasing down an innocent person and ripping their purse out of their hands isn’t exactly the same thing.”

Felicity put her hands on her hips and stepped up into his space, forcing him to take a step back in surprise. “I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like growing up with two drug addicted parents who never remember to put food on the table or pay their bills on time. I also don’t expect you to understand how hard its been for the people who have to  _live_ in the Glades, especially since  _your father_ is the one who shut down the only viable place for a person to get a good job with benefits and a pension. But just because you have one little scare due to the big, bad Glades and the  _awful, terrible_ children living there does  _not_  mean you get to crucify my brother for trying to survive.” She stared up at him searchingly, a muscle ticking in her cheek. “If you’ll excuse me,  _Mr. Queen_ , I have to pick up my brother and then get to my job with awful pay to make sure we don’t just eat  _string cheese_ for dinner.  _Again_.” With that, she stormed past him and in no particular direction, because she had no idea where the hell she was going and apparently dramatic exits were harder than she thought. 

Still, she managed to find a bathroom to hide out in until she was sure the Queens - and God, did she just yell at one of them? She hadn’t recognized the youngest Queen heir, but it was hard not to remember Oliver Queen’s smug face when it was plastered all over every TV screen lately - had left. 

Just to be sure, she stuck around another ten minutes before eventually walking out to see if Roy had been released yet.

"You’re in luck, lady, he’s coming out now," the front desk person said. 

Seconds later, she was staring at an abashed but still rebellious Roy Harper while she tapped her foot on the floor. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to rant and rave and tell him all the ways that what he was doing was an awful attempt at trying to make it in the world. But, well, she was half the reason he was still in this world, wasn’t she?

Shoulders slumping, she shook her head, defeated. “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s go home.”

He walked toward her with his head down, looking like the eleven year old boy she watched the cops take away from her when she was eighteen and struggling to get through her freshman year at MIT. He was taller than her now, though, not by much, and not when she was in heels.

It was a few minutes before they said anything, walking down the sidewalk toward a bus stop she knew would get them back home.

He bumped her shoulder with his as they walked. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

"Are you apologizing to the sidewalk, or me?" she wondered. 

His jaw ticked. “I didn’t disappoint the sidewalk.”

Felicity sighed, long and hard. “Roy, you’re not a disappointment, all right? I… I mean, if I’d just stayed in MIT, maybe things would be different. Maybe I’d have a good job and I could afford an apartment somewhere better, and then you wouldn’t have to do these things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You say that like you even had a choice. If you remember correctly, mom woke up from her latest drug binge and finally noticed I wasn’t there. A  _year_  after you took me with you to MIT! It’s her fault they took away your scholarship. I mean, you didn’t even really kidnap me. I  _wanted_ to go with you.”

Felicity frowned. “She did drop the charges.”

"Yeah, a little too late…" He shook his head. "I guilted you into taking me with you anyway. If you went alone, at least  _you_  would’a got away.”

"I wasn’t going to leave you here. It wasn’t safe. You didn’t deserve four years of that on your own."

He half-smiled down at her. “My hero. Always trying to watch out for me.”

Felicity grinned up at him. “And I always will.”

"You’re such a sap." He threw an arm around her and hugged her close.

Felicity rested her head on his shoulder. “Just… don’t rob anyone anymore, okay?” She looked up at him beseechingly. “You couldn’t pick a smaller target than Thea Queen,  _really?_ ”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know who she was. I just saw a designer bag and heels and took a chance.”

Scoffing, she shoved his shoulder until he let go. He merely chuckled as he stepped back. 

"Roy, there are better ways…"

"Yeah, but not easier ones. Look, you and me both know, getting out of the Glades isn’t easy, and everything is working against us." He shook his head. "I know it sucks, but we need food, and we have to pay for that shitty trailer somehow…" 

Felicity pursed her lips. “I talked to Jonah. He said he’d issue me a new check. There was just some glitch or something.”

"Yeah, the glitch is that he spent all his money at the track and can’t afford to pay his staff." Disgusted, he kicked a rock off the sidewalk. "This is stupid. Felicity, you’re a genius.  _Literally_. You should be working in some big company, making good money, not wasting away here.”

"Hey!" She grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her. "Don’t you ever say that like you don’t deserve it, too. The whole reason I took you with me to MIT, even if hiding you under my bed and guilt-tripping my roommate into not telling anybody about you was a terrible plan, was because I wanted you to have a better life. And I couldn’t give you that until I finished college and found a way to support both of us." She stared at him searchingly. "We’re doing this together. When I get out, so do you. Just as long as you don’t get yourself caught stealing from the rich again. We’ve got one Robin Hood too many around here." She screwed up her nose. "Archery. It looks totally ridiculous, if you ask me." 

Roy frowned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “He’s just doing what the rest of us wish we could, making them pay for what they’ve done.” 

Not appreciating his dark tone, Felicity squeezed his forearm. “Hey, you can’t let yourself get caught up in that headspace, all right? It’s not good for you.”

He half-smiled down at her. “You’re too damn good, you know that? How the hell you managed to stay so innocent around here, I’ll never know.”

"Yeah, well, maybe I see something better for our future than just this. And it keeps me happy. Keeps me  _sane_ …” She smiled up at him. “It’s not all bad, is it? You still have me.” 

Despite himself, his mouth curled up at the corners. “Yeah, well, I’ve always had you.” 

"See? Something to smile about."

"Sap," he muttered again.

But Felicity just grinned.

As much as today had been, well,  _bad_ , to say the least, her brother had managed to get out of trouble, and that was really all that mattered to her. Sure, he technically robbed someone, and don’t think for a second she wouldn’t be making him pay for that mistake. But, in the end, she’d do anything to protect him. Anything to keep him from becoming one of the many screwed up kids joining gangs out in the Glades. He had a good heart. And she would make sure it stayed that way.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're apologizing to that girl," Felicity told him, sitting atop a washer, her legs swinging.

It was Wednesday, her one and only day off from work, which meant that it was laundry day. She and Roy had hauled everything over on the bus, which was no small feat, and were now set up for a few hours of watching the news and crappy cartoons on the fuzzy television the Laundromat supplied. In the early days, sometimes she would try to get some running around done while the laundry was going, but coming back to find somebody had stolen all of her underwear out of the washer ( _just_ her underwear) taught her that was not an option.

"What girl?" he asked, his hood pulled down over his eyes as he sat in a plastic chair, leaned back against the window, arms crossed over his chest.

"Thea Queen. The girl you stole the purse from. Right, sorry, the one you were  _caught_ stealing the purse from, unlike all the others that you somehow managed to flee without being arrested."

He scowled. "It's not my fault she can run in those heels. I thought I was good and then, there she was."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. The point is that you stole that girl's purse, Roy. And she was kind enough to drop the charges, so you and I are going over to her house and you're going to apologize."

He sat up then, tossing his hood back. "We're going to her  _house?_ " He stared at her, brows hiked. "Wait, isn't that a bit much? I mean, security probably won't even let us in. Not to mention we have no way to get there."

Felicity shook her head. "We'll take a cab."

"Are you kidding? That'll cost us out the ass." He threw his hands up. "We don't have that kind of money just laying around!"

"Just like I don't have the money to bail you out of jail or find you a better lawyer than the one the court appoints to you." She stared at him seriously, pushing off the washer and walking toward him. "Look, I know it sucks, and I don't blame you for what you did. I mean, yes, I think there are better ways and I'm not condoning theft, but the fact remains, you owe that girl an apology. And if she wants you to do something to make it up to her, like, I don't know, pulling weeds from her massive hedge maze in her backyard, then you will."

"But—"

She raised an eyebrow and stared him down.

Huffing, he sat back in his chair. "Fine," he grumbled.

Nodding shortly, she said, "Good."

Walking back to the washer, she hopped up on top of it and dug a bottle of lavender nail polish out of her pocket. "Now, come here and paint my toe nails. You always do them better than me."

Rolling his eyes, Roy shoved up from his chair and dragged his feet as he walked over to her. "That's 'cause you're impatient and you try to do three things at once. You gotta take your time and focus," he told her, grabbing the bottle out of her hand and giving it a shake.

"Teach me your nail painting ways, sensei," she mocked teasingly.

He glared at her, but there was no heat to it, his mouth turning up on one side with amusement. "Give it," he said, and she shucked her sandal to put her bare foot on his leg, wiggling her toes at him.

Catching her toes, he unscrewed the nail polish top. "Tell me about work yesterday."

So, she did. It was really just Roy's way of encouraging her to vent instead of holding onto all the crappy things she went through on a daily basis and she appreciated him for it. Sometimes she didn't like to put that kind of stuff on him, so she bottled it, because it seemed kinder. But that usually ended with her crying over a cheap bottle of wine about all the things that were and weren't. But this was a much better way of release. Roy painted, she babbled, laundry got done, and that was one day off not completely wasted. She only hoped that when they showed up at the Queen Manor later that night, they weren't thrown off the property or yelled at.

 

* * *

 

 

"This is dumb," Roy sighed, for the third time, his foot tapping impatiently as he sat in the backseat, glaring out the window of the taxi.

"I'm not arguing with you," she returned, smoothing out a wrinkle in her skirt.

She'd dressed up. Was that weird? It just seemed like the right thing to do when going to a billionaire's house. She was feeling nervous and awkward, and she wasn't even the one who'd done anything wrong. Well, no, actually, technically she yelled at Oliver Queen, so she supposed she did have a little bit of a hand in doing  _something_  wrong. But that was different. It wasn't her fault that he'd kicked her mama bear instinct into action. Anyway, she wasn't  _overly_ dressed up…

"What's with the skirt?"

Felicity turned to look at her brother, frowning. "Why? What's wrong with it?" She looked down at the white skirt with black polka dots and panicked a little. "It doesn't look okay? I haven't worn it in a while."

"It's fine. You look…" His mouth screwed up like he'd tasted something gross, " _cute_."

"And we're saying that like I've got the plague,  _because_ …?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you dressed up? We'll be there like, thirty seconds."

"I'm not dressed up. I'm… I just didn't want to show up looking like… Ugh, I don't know! I just want us to look respectable, so they don't think dropping the charges was a mistake."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking her over again. "Whatever. You look like mom used to when she'd come to parent/teacher interviews."

Felicity worried her bottom lip. "Is that a  _bad_ thing?"

Roy shrugged, turning to look out the window again.

She spent the rest of the drive second-guessing her outfit.

Finally, they were creeping up the driveway to Queen Manor, after a short conversation with the guard at the gate, who called ahead to the house to make sure it was okay.

"You've got the purse?" Felicity wondered.

He looked down at the bag in his lap. "Yeah, one overpriced Prada right here. She's lucky I didn't dump this one yet."

Brow furrowed, she asked, "Why didn't you?"

"Are you kidding? A bag like this could get me a couple hundred in the Glades. We could'a bought some groceries."

Felicity sighed, shaking her head. "Hey, we're fine."

He snorted.

But she didn't have any more time to argue as they were pulled up in front of the house and somebody had opened her door, offering a hand to help her out of the car. Weird. She couldn't think of a time anybody had ever done that.

Standing, she smoothed out her skirt awkwardly and waited for her brother to join her. Leaning to one side, affecting an air of boredom, Roy stood clutching the bag in one hand while the other was stuffed deep into the pocket of his hoodie.

The door opened, grabbing their attention, and a woman stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her dark hair tied back and a kind smile on her lips. With a thickly accented voice – Russian? Felicity wondered – she invited them inside. "Mister Oliver and Miss Thea will meet you in the parlor," she informed them, walking them through the foyer and down a hall.

Roy cast his eyes around, brows hiked as he whistled, long and low, at the grandeur of it. Felicity was pretty sure her whole trailer could fit in the foyer alone; it made her gut twist.

The woman, she said her name was Raisa when Felicity asked, opened the double doors into the parlor and waved them in. "Please, make yourself comfortable," she encouraged, before sweeping back out of the room.

"Obviously she doesn't know I'm a thief," Roy snorted, before throwing himself down on a couch and putting his feet up on a table.

Felicity smacked his shoes to get him to put his feet down. "Be nice. And don't call yourself that." Walking around the room, she started admiring the paintings on the walls, before spotting a book shelf and bee-lining toward it. She soon found herself lost in the titles, her fingers walking over cracked spines, and so didn't here when another person entered the room.

"Big fan of Shakespeare?" a voice asked just behind her.

"He had his moments," she answered distantly, before clueing in suddenly and whirling around to see the man behind her.

Oliver Queen looked less…  _angry_ this time around, but no less large. Or handsome. He wasn't looming like he had been before, however, his hands carefully kept to his sides as he eyed her curiously, his head tipped. "You told the guard that you were here to apologize?" he asked.

"Not me. Roy. Well, I mean, I suppose I  _could_  apologize. For yelling at you, that is. I don't take it back, exactly. Well, I take the yelling it at  _you_  part back, but not the words specifically. I still meant those."

Oliver's lips twitched faintly before he turned, looking at the boy sitting on the couch. For all that he looked unaffected, with his slouched shoulders and frown, Felicity could see how tense Roy really was.

"You must be Roy," Oliver said.

"Must be," he muttered back.

Felicity gave him the stink-eye before walking around Oliver and toward her brother. " _Roy_ wanted to come by and personally tell your sister how sorry he is for taking her bag. It was a mistake. One that he won't be making again…" She stared down at her brother meaningfully. "And, if there's anything he could  _do_ to make it up to her…"

"'Her' would really like her purse back, and maybe that apology from Roy himself," came a lilting, feminine voice from the doorway.

Thea walked in, all confidence, and raised an eyebrow down at Roy before she held a hand out.

Blowing out a sigh, Roy stood from the couch, grabbing up the purse and handing it over to her. "Here. Everything's in there."

"Yeah, well, excuse me if I make sure for myself…" She offered him a bland smile before digging around in her purse, searching through it with her brows furrowed.

"Everything but the smokes. I tossed those." Roy smirked. "Filthy habit ya got there."

Thea glared up at him, briefly glancing at her brother. " _Thanks_. I'll keep that in mind."

Felicity put her hands on her hips. "Roy…"

Sighing, he looked over at her, making a face before he turned back to Thea. "Sorry I stole your bag."

There was a long pause then.

"Wow, don't hold back, I'm really tearing up over here," Thea mocked.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, should I feel worse? Some of us are just scraping by, so I'm sorry if stopping by your little castle here kind of makes me feel like an idiot for apologizing about one dumb purse. You could probably buy the company that makes them."

Felicity felt a headache coming on. " _Roy_."

"You think just because you saw my house that you  _know_ me?" Thea snapped, taking a step closer to him.

"Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, Thea Queen. Trust fund brat that totaled her car that she got as a  _birthday_ present," he scoffed. "Loves designer labels and is usually in the tabloids for partying too much. Did I… Did I leave anything out?"

Shifting her feet as she glared at him, she nodded shortly. " _Yeah_. Dead father, missing step-dad, damaged brother, and almost served jail time for that car accident." Raising her purse at him, she added, "Thanks for this, even if your apology was less than stellar."

"Trust me, he's going to do a better job on his second one." Felicity stepped up, taking Roy by the arm and squeezing. "Do  _not_  make me embarrass you in front of these strangers. We came out here to apologize, not to make things worse. And try to remember that the meter is running on the taxi, so every second you spend here, I have to pay for." She stared up at him meaningfully.

Roy ground his teeth, staring down at his sister a long second, before finally turning back to Thea. "So apologies aren't really my thing. Makes you feel better, I didn't take the bag because I knew who you were. I saw an easy target, I took a chance. Word of advice though, stay out of the Glades. It's not safe, and I don't just mean from people like me, stealing to scrape by."

She stared at him a long moment. "I don't think there was an actual apology in there, but I'll take it."

Felicity stepped back, arms crossed in front of her. "Good. And, even if he won't say it, I'm sorry about what happened…" She turned to add Oliver into the conversation, who was standing just off to the side, watching, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. "I think I more than spilled my guts on the hows and whys the last time we talked, but I thought it was important for Roy to show how sorry he was in person. Which is why, if there was anything you wanted him to do, to make up for what happened, he would gladly do it." She shot him a dark look before he could argue. "Even if it means washing all the windows in your giant house. Not that your house isn't lovely, because it is, it's just… kind of enormous. In a totally not-bad way."

Thea looked amused by her, casting her brother a look. "I think we're good on the making-it-up to me thing." She shrugged. "I've made a few mistakes myself, so… Forgiven, I guess."

Felicity looked from her to Oliver, and then back to Roy, who shrugged at her.

"Good with me," her brother said. "Can we get outta here now?"

"I taught you better manners than this," Felicity muttered, before returning her attention to Thea. "Thank you for hearing him out. I know he looks tough, but looks are deceiving."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we're leaving. You could try thanking them for taking pity on you. If it'd been me, I would have you outside landscaping until your hands fell off," Felicity warned, waving toward the door. "Move. You've got dishes tonight."

Offering a fake smile, Roy saluted them, "Later," and walked out.

Counting to five in her head, Felicity sighed. "Again, sorry. And thank you." She followed her brother out of the parlor, but him and his long legs were already far ahead of her. She briefly got lost in the hallways before eventually finding the foyer. She was almost at the door when she heard, "I never got your name."

Turning on her heel, she found Oliver Queen staring at her curiously, picking at one of his thumbs with his forefinger.

"Oh. Uh…" She held a hand out to him. "Felicity Smoak."

He gave her hand a slow shake. "Not Harper? Like your brother…"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry." He winced. "That was intrusive. I don't mean to sound like I'm judging."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Roy is my step-brother. My father and his mother met when I was nine. We've been family since. He  _is_  my brother, even if blood and surname don't match up."

Oliver nodded. "Thea said Roy's mother was addicted to Vertigo…" He stared at her searchingly. "I hear it's getting to be a big problem around here."

Felicity shrugged. "I wouldn't know, personally. I mean, the only time I did drugs was a pot brownie in my freshman year at MIT, but, well, I'm allergic to nuts, so… That didn't end on a high note, pun intended."

He blinked at her.

Feeling a flush rise to her cheeks, she shook her head. "Look, the only thing I know about Vertigo is that my step-mother preferred it to taking care of my brother. Is it running rampant in the Glades? Probably. But so is everything else, including crime and poverty."

Oliver nodded, brow furrowed thoughtfully. He turned his eyes away, looking distant.

"Anyway, as awkward as this whole conversation has been. I need to get home. I have an early shift tomorrow."

Returning his attention to her, he raised his chin. "Right, sorry, uh, I can pay for the cab…" He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but she stopped him.

"I don't have an extensive history of the how-to when it comes to randomly visiting people to apologize for attempted robberies, but I don't think the victim or their family is supposed to pay for the perpetrator's cab home." She raised an eyebrow as she stared up at him.

He stared at her a long moment before his gaze felt to where her hand lay on his forearm.

Following his gaze, she released him and quickly brought her hand back. Clearing her throat, she raised her chin. "Besides, I can pay for my own cab." Walking to the door, she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Thank you for not throwing anymore accusations at him or telling him he should rot in jail… I know it doesn't look like it and he's got this whole surly, rebellious teenager thing going on, but he's a good person. He just… needs some direction."

Oliver stared at her a long moment, his expression softening. "Yeah, well, I might know what that's like."

Half-smiling, she nodded. "Have a good night, Mr. Queen."

As she walked out the door, she thought she heard him correct her, "It's Oliver. Mr. Queen was my father."

But it was lost as the door closed behind her and she walked to the waiting cab. Roy was slumped down on the seat across from her when she took a seat and offered her address to the taxi driver. As they drove away, she turned her head back to look at the castle-like structure that was Queen Manor and laughed under her breath. Talk about living on the other side of the tracks.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Felicity met the Hood, she maced him.

She'd been feeling like someone was following her for a few blocks now. She got off work later than usual, which meant she missed the last bus that would get her anywhere near home, so she'd decided to hoof it. Not her best decision, and Roy would definitely yell at her for it later, but those were the breaks. She'd spent a few years saving up for a car, but then, well, Loraine, Roy's mom, just kind of stopped coming home. Felicity filed a missing person's report, but nothing ever really came of it. Since the stash of money she kept in a jar under her bed was empty, she knew Loraine had probably just split with what money she could find. After that, all of Felicity's money went to making sure her and Roy had a roof over their heads, even if it did leak, and food in the cupboards, though it was hardly the healthiest.

Sometimes she rode the bus for free. Okay,  _mostly_ , she rode the bus for free. She made friends with the drivers by babbling at them in that cute way that Roy used to tell her would make anybody take pity on her, either that or to get her to give their ears a break. Because of this, they waited an extra minute or two on days she was running late and they knew she had to get to work. They waved her off when she tried to pay and let her know when they were close to her stop if she looked like she was falling asleep in her seat (which was far too often, actually; she really needed to talk to Jonah about working those late night shifts).

But tonight, there was no bus waiting to pick her up. Oh, she was sure Matty, the guy who worked that shift, tried to hang around for her, but she was more than an hour late in getting to the stop. He couldn't afford to hang around and wait for her. And, it wasn't unlikely that Roy rode his bike out to walk her home. He would have, too, if she'd called him. But he was so busy lately. Looking for trouble, probably. Last year he'd basically appointed himself the savior of the Glades. He walked around looking for people needing help and put himself between them and Trouble. Capital T totally warranted. She'd had to clean him up after more of his scrapes than she cared to think about, but her brother was a scrappy kid who was sure there was something he could do. She loved him for it, she really did, but that didn't stop her from being terrified that one day, she was going to have the cops walk into the diner and they wouldn't ask for the truly awful coffee she served, they'd tell her that her brother was found, dead in an alley somewhere, trying to help someone.

It was ironic, of course. Roy occasionally robbed people, which probably looked like an awful thing to do. But he never hurt them. He just took their money and tossed the purse or wallet into the nearest garbage can. He used to save the purses and gave them to her, until she realized what he was doing and told him she wouldn't be walking around with somebody's stolen property, not to mention the fact that it might one day incriminate them. The crimes he stopped were of the assault and rape variety, mostly. He liked to tell her about it when she got home. Sometimes he boasted about how he got the drop on someone, ignoring her when she slapped his shoulder and told him it was too dangerous and he needed a new hobby. Roy was too stubborn to listen to her. And his recent obsession/idolization of the Hood wasn't helping things.

So, walking home alone in the Glades was not one of her brightest moments. And she had a lot of those, actually. Bright moments, that was. She was a genius. Even if her current situation didn't speak much to that. But, well, things happened... Like, trying to smuggle her ten-year-old brother with her to MIT, and actually managing to accomplish it for almost a year before her step-mother noticed. Then it was all handcuffs and kidnapping charges while they tried to pull him away from her and put him back with his mom. Loraine dropped the charges but Felicity lost her scholarship to MIT. She returned home to Starling City with her tail between her legs, but she didn't let that stop her. She got a job at the Queen Steel Works Factory thanks to an amazing training program and the pity the hiring supervisor took on her. It was actually kind of awesome, because it came with benefits and a pension and good enough pay that she was already circling apartments in the Classifieds. Nothing fancy, of course, but a two bedroom, so Roy could have his space, real locks on the doors, and actual hot water. Eight months later, however, that dream died. The factory was shut down and she had to pick her job back up waiting tables for Jonah.

Waiting tables. Talk about a step in a completely different direction from her skill with technology. Oh, she still fixed computers. It was a side job that made her some extra cash when things were tough. But computers were hard to come by in the Glades, and money was always a little too tight for people when they did crash. So, more often than not, she fixed them up for cheap. Especially when it involved somebody just trying to use their shoddy, outdated computer to get their school work done. It wasn't much to give back, but it was all she had. Don't even get her started on how Roy thought she should just hack some billionaire's bank account and skim some off the top for them to survive off of. They'd had that conversation far too many times, in her opinion.

Anyway, now she and Roy lived in the same trailer park they grew up in, both hoping and dreading the day Loraine returned, just trying to scrape by together. Did she hate that? Yes, she did. But she tried really hard not to let it show. Roy had enough on his plate. He was nineteen now and she desperately missed the days when he still had hope in him that the world could be better than it was. Maybe that was why she didn't push too much when he came home with a fat lip and bloody knuckles. Because she saw it in his eyes, that spark of something that said he felt like things  _were_  different, or  _could be_  different.

Now she was going to get killed in the Glades and she was never going to live it down. Metaphorically, anyway. What he would do with her dead, she didn't know. He always felt things on a deeper level. Oh, he tried to hide it, but she knew him. She knew who he was under all that bitter rage for the hand the world dealt him. And they were all they had. Each other. That's all they'd  _ever_  really had.

Which was why she decided  _no way_. No way was she going down without a fight. So, she dug the mace out of her purse that Roy ( _definitely_  stole and) gave to her for situations just like these. And just when she felt like they were close enough, she turned on her heel, gave a loud yell, and sprayed them in the face.

Only, well, he might've wrangled the mace out of her hand just short of spraying him, and whirled her around so her arm was pinned to her chest, holding her tight to his, very firm, front. So, that didn't turn out as planned. Well, unless she planned to wind up in the arms of a stranger dressed in green leather and smelling particularly good, especially for someone hanging out in the Glades. She did, however, get a clear idea of who it was thanks to the street lamps. As much as she  _could_  when her attacker was dressed up in a hood that somehow managed to cover most of his face. Mostly in shadows, not so much in fabric. Actually, how did he manage to keep his identity hidden? He should really have a mask.

"I'll take it into consideration," a deep, altered voice said against her ear.

Felicity briefly closed her eyes. Great, she was giving the vigilante tips because her mouth filter was perpetually broken.

"Maybe take into consideration letting me go," she told him, squirming. "I don't know if you missed the memo, but I'm not a corrupt, middle aged, one-percenter, so I don't think I fit into the parameters of your target list."

He went still for a moment, stiff in that way that Roy always did when someone said something that hit a little too close to home. But then he relaxed, loosening his grip on her. "I was only making sure you got home safe," he told her, taking a step back as his arms fell from around her.

Turning on her heel, she glared at him, which felt a little pointless when she couldn't make out his eyes, but whatever, it was the principle of the matter. "Right, because apparently The Hood does that now?"

Her heart was pounding in her chest, a little warning bell in her head going off, telling her not to poke the proverbial bear. Only, she talked a lot when she was nervous, and also in general, but mostly when she was scared, and it wasn't every day she was faced with a man known for killing people. She decided to focus on her anger rather than her fear, however. Mass-murderer or not, he was the one who snuck up on her in an unsavory part of town!

Felicity balled her hands up into fists and put them on her hips, much like she used to when Roy was much younger and she had to explain something to him that she thought ought to be obvious. "Hate to break it to you, but your reputation doesn't exactly come with a 'don't worry, ladies, he's a gentleman' addendum."

He cocked his head at her a little, a faint twitch to his lips could be seen if she squinted. "It's dangerous out here. You shouldn't be alone." The mouth-thing was gone now as he stood a little taller, sounding like a parent telling their child they'd done something wrong.

She bristled at the very idea. "Wow, no, I  _so_  did not sign up for this."

He shook his head so minutely it was almost imperceptible. "I'm sorry?"

"You don't get to swoop in here and act all high and mighty, telling me how dangerous it is on the streets just because you found a discount Robin Hood outfit and suddenly felt like playing hero to the unfortunate." Gripping her purse strap a little tighter, she waved a finger in his face. "I've lived here almost my whole life. I've raised my kid brother in this. I walk these streets almost every day, completely aware of how dangerous it is, because I  _have_ to. So, while you might think it's just so easy to hole up in my trailer, waiting for someone to save us, you have got it  _all_  wrong, buddy." She stabbed a finger past his shoulder. "Go back to whatever self-righteous mission you were pulling downtown, because Ido  _not_  need to add a murder-y vigilante to the skyscraper high pile of issues I already have." Turning on her heel, she walked away, grumbling to herself. "Who even wears a leather body suit? Does it even breathe? You'd have to  _peel_  it off with all the sweat you'd probably work up…"

The Hood didn't follow her home. Or, at least, not close enough that she could try maceing him again. She was pretty sure he was still following her, at a distance, until she walked into her crappy trailer and slammed the barely-hanging-on door so hard it nearly fell off its already-strained hinges.

An hour later, when Roy walked in with a bruise on his cheek and a cut over his eye, he grinned at her, blitzed out on his own heroics. She nearly threw the book she was reading at his face.

"Just so you know, that leather-wearing hero-wannabe you like so much  _does_  occasionally drop by the Glades…"

Perking up, he looked over at her. "What? You saw him?"

"More like talked to him… Or yelled at him. It's a toss-up."

He turned toward her, his eyes a little wide. "Tell me everything," he demanded eagerly.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I was walking home from work—"

"Wait, why were you walking?" His brow furrowed. "Why didn't you take the bus?"

Felicity frowned, shifting in her seat. "Jonah had me stay late to close up and the buses weren't running anymore, so I decided to walk home."

" _Felicity_!" he snapped. "That's eight blocks!"

"I know…" She sighed, biting her lip. "But it was late and my feet hurt and I just wanted to go home… It was no big deal, honestly."

"I stopped two girls from getting raped tonight. What if that'd been you?" he shouted, pushing up from the ratty orange arm chair he was sitting on to pace the short space in front of the coffee table. "You can't do things like that. You know how bad it is out there, and it's only getting worse." He waved a hand toward the window and scowled. "What if something happened to you? Huh? What the hell would I…?" He let out a huff, dragging his hands down his face, and turned on his heel to leave.

"Roy!"

He shook his head, yanking the door open and making his way outside.

She knew he needed a minute to calm down, but that didn't make her guilt ebb any. Felicity knew her brother worried. It kind of came, part and parcel, with the whole growing up in a really bad part of town with nobody to rely on but each other. But she was a grown woman, seven years his senior, and as much as he wanted to watch out for her, she also needed to be independent. Her whole life had been about taking care of other people, from her dad to Loraine to Roy. She always came second, and she'd accepted that. But she wouldn't let herself be dictated to about how she lived her life. Yes, the Glades were dangerous, for  _everyone_ , so she wouldn't have him or the vigilante treat her like some damsel in distress. She wasn't even  _in_ distress!

 _Ugh_.

Eventually, after an hour of waiting up, she accepted that her brother wouldn't be coming home, or not, at least, while she was still awake. And she had a morning shift tomorrow, so as much as she wanted to wait around, she also had to work ten hours tomorrow, on already sore feet, with very little food in her stomach and too much terrible coffee in her more-than-exhausted system. So she took a shower, in lukewarm water, and climbed into bed with her hair tossed into a lopsided pile atop her head.

Tomorrow, she would talk to Roy, she would put things right. She wouldn't apologize for going out on her own, but she would, at least, acknowledge how much it scared him sometimes. And then she'd remind him how he scared her every night, too, running around trying to play hero. For now, though, she'd try to get a whole solid five hours before she had to get up tomorrow and start the usual grind again.

Burying her face in her pillow, she fell asleep wondering if all vigilantes smelled as good as the one she met. That should probably be illegal. Smelling so good and feeling so awesome when it was a well-known fact that they were out there, killing people with archaic weapons.

"Stupid Hood," she muttered as she drifted to sleep.


End file.
